Книга только для ознакомления
.
Immediately, he was grabbed by a giggling frawl, Perian's
self-appointed "weighty lady," Fester.
"Take off clothes and come with me!" Fester squealed, her
fleshy cheeks buckling in a smile as she tugged at Flint's
clothing.
"What are you talking about? Stop that! Don't touch me,
you silly frawl! Where's Perian?" Flint demanded, trying to
shake off Fester's grip.
"I'm right here," Perian called. She came around the cor-
ner of a stalagmite and laughed out loud when she saw
Flint's stony, red face and Fester's eager tugging. "Stop it,
Fester." The frawl Aghar dropped away from Flint, sheep-
ishly regarded the royal family, then scampered up the stair-
way.
Flustered, Flint gathered the edges of his clothing that Fes-
ter had managed to pull down, his face burning. "What's go-
ing on here? What have you been teaching her, mugging?"
Perian laughed again. "Unfortunately, she already knew
that. Look, I'm sorry," she said, flashing her big, hazel eyes.
"Fester must have decided that since I've taken off my usual
armor, you would want to as well."
Suddenly Flint became aware that Perian was dressed in a
tight-fighting blue-green wrap; his favorite color looked
spectacular against her copper hair
|
